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by madeinfrance



Category: Las Chicas del Cable | Cable Girls
Genre: F/M, speculations for the second part of season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeinfrance/pseuds/madeinfrance
Summary: He brings her home.Lidia x Francisco, post-season 5, part I.
Relationships: Lidia Aguilar / Francisco Gómez
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Home

_ As soon as the door opens, the little girl looks up, her wide eyes lightening as his voice resonates in the apartment. _

_ “Hello? Anybody home?” Of course, it’s all it takes. _

_ Lidia can’t contain her own smile as her baby tries to eagerly get up on her chubby legs as quick as she can, struggling and babbling like a little monkey. She chuckles at the sight. “Slow down, honey. We’re here!,” she says a little louder for his benefit. “And it looks like someone’s really excited to see you.” _

_ The toddler is halfway through the living room when he finally appears, which leads to more excited babbles and arms wildly going up and down as she runs even faster. _

_ Lidia rolls her eyes: Eva really is (as he cheekily likes to remind her) his biggest fan. _

_ As she watches Francisco pick a delighted Eva up in the air, though, blowing air kisses on her neck to make her laugh, Lidia leans back against the front of their couch, and figures his bragging isn’t so bad after all . _

* * *

"Careful, mind her head."

"To the right, now just – wait, she's coming back. Francisco, she’s - "

"What - "

"Her eyes, I think they fluttered!”

* * *

_ “Well, I don’t know whether to be happy that the club is getting bigger, or worried that even more waitresses will get to swoon over the handsome Spanish boss.” _

_ She hears as much as she feels his chuckle against her body, and it makes her insides all soft. Lying there in the warm water, his head on her shoulder, her arms around him as the smell of the lavender soap fills the air, he looks more relaxed than ever - which is exactly how she feels herself. _

_ “Women tend to prefer Sam, believe me,” Francisco responds, his fingers absently travelling on her leg. Snorting, Lidia shakes her head, smiling at his ignorance, and at the way his eyes open in surprise.  _

_ Her fingers continue their movement in his wet hair as she moves her lips to his jaw, his cheek, his nose. “Believe me, my love: blondie’s really not the ladies’ favorite over there, I can tell you that.” _

“ _ Oh...really?” _

_ Chuckling, she leans back to kiss his ignorant, confused frown away. “Really. In fact, now that I think of it,” she whispers, “they might be onto something.” _

* * *

"Lidia...Lidia, it's okay - I'm here. I’m here."

* * *

_ “Here you are.” _

_ She turns at the voice, her smile growing as soon as she sees his. In two steps, he closes the distance between them and brings his arms around her from behind, leaving one, two kisses on her cheek. In the cold winter night, Lidia immediately feels a little warmer. _

_ “It’s almost midnight, you know. If I hadn’t find you, I would have had to kiss that old lady that has been smiling at me all night - which is not exactly how I wanted to begin the new year,” and she chuckles, tightening his arms around her to make amends. _

_ “Yeah, but at least her year would have started off wonderfully.” _

_ He pinches her side slightly in punishment, and she just laughs. The city lights bright underneath them, his scent filling the air, his fingers right here around hers - as far as she’s concerned, Lidia can’t see anything that she’d like to change, this new year. _

_ Or ever. _

_ “Five years,” she eventually says, her fingers closing around his. “We’ve been here for five years.”  _

_ “I know - I still can’t believe it, sometimes,” he admits, mirroring her own feelings. _

_ It’s crazy, how time flies. It seems like yesterday they were arriving to New-York, barely speaking the language, not having a clue of where to begin, and now here they are, surrounded by friends and colleagues, drinking champagne on top of one of the most beautiful buildings in the city, their girls safe in the home that they’d made. _

_ “We can always go back if you want, you know. You just have to say the word.” _

_ And the thing is, she knows. She’s even thought about it, certain that he would follow her anywhere yet again, even if he loves their life here. _

_ She does too, though. She would have never thought that she’d come to not miss Spain aymore, and yet - today, she wouldn’t change anything to the life they had, not for anything. _

_ Turning only slightly to press her lips to his chin, Lidia smiles.  _

_ “No. I’m perfectly good where we are now." _

  
  


* * *

Pain.

That's the first thing that she's aware of. It's not like the unbearable one she felt when she fell of several floors a decade ago, not even like the ones Carmen has been inflicting her for the past seven months. Still, it’s here. Mainly in her head, she realizes: she's sore, but it's her head that hurts the most.

Her attention is slowly turned elsewhere, though, at the gentle touch she becomes aware of, fingers slowly running in her hair in a soothing motion.

A familiar motion.

With an effort far greater than it should be, Lidia finally manages to open her eyes to see him, deep brown eyes lightening as their gaze meet. It feels like the pain suddenly lightens.

_ Francisco. _

But it’s - 

It’s not possible.

She’s in prison. She’s in Carmen’s prison. She’s been there for months, and although she prays every single day, it’s not possible that - she couldn’t have escaped. She just couldn’t. It’s a dream, just like him, standing there all beautiful in front of her.

She’s been here before. A few times, actually: whenever she’s been deprived of food and water for a little too long, and the punches were a little too hard, she’d think she’d see them. Imagined Eva’s beautiful face, Sofia’s soft smile. Francisco.

She’s dreamt of him so, so many times.

But it can’t, it just can’t - 

“Lidia, it’s okay,” he whispers, soft, oh so soft. The sound of his voice sends chills down her arms, but Lidia shakes her head, refusing to be fooled by her own mind once again.

“It can’t - you’re not really here,” she says, voice wavering, and she can feel her eyes burning and the tears falling, because it’s just too much - too cruel. She can feel his fingers gently running on her arms, can smell his familiar scent, and she hates herself for the hope that’s rising in her chest.

In the past weeks, she’s learnt that the higher it gets, the harder the fall when reality comes creeping back in.

But the hand in her hair brushes a few out of her face, the other grabs her own on the bed, and although they’re filled with pain and worry, there’s a determination behind his eyes, too.

“I’m here, Lidia,” he says, firm. “I’m here. And I’m - I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, but I swear: I’m here now. I’m here, and you’re safe, and I promise you that everything won’t let anyone harm you ever again -  _ ever _ .”

She’s fighting - she’s fighting so hard against herself to not fall for it, for not daring to believe that this hell is finally over, that he’s found her and that she has him back and with her. Yet, his eyes are full of pain, and they never are when she’s dreaming of him. When she is, she sees him smiling, or with a tired but content look on his face as he wakes up, or with that smirk he has whenever he’s right and she’s wrong, and that she pretends to hate.

Right now, though, Francisco’s looking at her with despair, and hurt, and love. His hand moves from her head to her cheek, gently brushing it, and suddenly, she knows - this time, she’s not dreaming.

“You’re really here,” she breathes out, so low that if he wasn’t sitting so close to her, he wouldn’t have caught it.

But he does, and a smile starts to grow on his beautiful, wonderful face as he squeezes her hand a little tighter. “Yeah - yeah, I am.”

Lidia’s not sure where she finds the strength, but before she knows it, before she even realizes what she’s doing, she’s sitting up and throwing her arms around his neck, holding him as close as she can.

It hurts, but she doesn’t care - for the first time in months, she can breath.

He’s soft, careful, but Francisco’s holding her just as desperately, and God, how she missed him. His face buried in her neck, he’s kissing her, apologizing over and over again. She doesn’t have the words yet, can’t trust her voice, but she threads her fingers in his curls and leaves no space between them, and hopes that he understands.

She’s not sure how long they stay like this. At one point, she realizes she’s crying, but she can’t seem to be able to stop. The relief, the love she feels can only be compared to the ones she felt when she got Eva back, and when Francisco woke up after his coma.

His hand runs soothingly up and down her back, his other warm and reassuring on her neck. When she finally calms down, all she wants to see is his face, and she pushes back just enough so that she can see him. Her heart stops.

“Hi,” and she smiles.

“Hi,” she whispers. Her eyes follow her fingers as they travel to his eyebrows, his nose. The shaped line of his jaw, his chin, his cheeks. His lips. 

When she looks back to his eyes, his haven’t moved, fixed on hers. “I missed you,” and both his hands move to cup her cheeks at her words. She lets her forehand fall against his and closes her eyes, breathing him in. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you. I’m sorry - I’m so - “

“Francisco, stop apologizing.” Lidia moves her hands over his, gently moving back and forth on his wrists. “None of it was your fault, okay? None of it.”

She can feel him shakes his head, and when she opens her eyes, his are tightly shut as he keeps hurting himself. “I shouldn’t have left that day. I shouldn’t, I should have -”

“What? Shoot two or three soldiers, only to be taken down by the hundred others that were there? Leave our girls alone, without the both of us?”

The conflict is so evident in his eyes. The self-hatred he’s so good at, no matter how misplaced it is. She’s expected it, of course: during those seven months in hell, Lidia had never resented him once, grateful that he stepped down and looked after their girls all this time. Grateful that he was looking for her, because she knew that he wouldn’t rest before he’d find her.

(After all, he’d promised her. She still remembers that night, his skin against hers under their sheets in their newly bought New-York city apartment.

_ “I’ll never let anything separate us - not ever again. _ ”)

Lidia had never feared that Francisco or the girls would give up on her: it was that, and the knowledge that they were all okay that kept her alive all this time, despite the pain, the hunger, the hatred that was poured on her every minute of every day. Yet she knew that while he was looking, Francisco was also blaming himself, and that he always will. That was another reason to hold on: she knew that if she wouldn’t survive this, he would never, ever forgive himself.

And so, she survived. For him, for them.

Her fingers move to close around his shirt, and she brings him even closer, their faces so close, she can feel his slightly ragged breath on her skin. “How would you have gotten me out of that nightmare if they had taken you too, my love?”, she asks softly.

His eyes are fixed on hers, but Lidia just holds his stare. She still can’t quite believe that all of this is really happening, but if it is, she won’t - she won’t let him carry that burden. Leaning in, she kisses his cheekbone, his nose. Francisco sighs, and when she looks back at him, she can see he’s still struggling.

“I’m sorry I took so long to find you.”

Her fingers tighten even more on his clothes. “I know.”

“When we...when we got to you, we saw all the bruises, Lidia. How much weight you’d lost. And they’d just given you something, you wouldn’t wake up, and I thought you were - “

“But I’m not. I’m fine - I’m _ fine _ ,” she repeats. She’s hurting, but she is - she’s fine now.

She lets one of her hands travel to his chin again, and smiles. “I was dreaming about you, actually,” and that finally makes him smile as well.

“Really?”

“Mhm. About our life in New-York. That’s the one thing that helped me get through...Everything, to be honest.”

For a moment, Francisco just looks at her. She’s usually really good at reading him, but this time, they’re just so much, so much behind those eyes she’s been dying to see for so long, she can barely do it. He takes her hand, kisses it.

Then, kisses her, and this time, time seems to stop just like her heart does.

* * *

Despite his complaints that she should rest, they stay up all night. She’s still a bit fuzzy, of course, but her head doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Plus, she she doesn’t care, anyway - she’ll sleep later.

She’s been waiting this moment for far too long.

She’d woken up quite late in the evening, and everyone was already asleep, but Francisco fills her up on everything: how Eva has been adapting to Spain, how Sofia has been doing at the hospital, Marga’s pregnancy, Oscar’s difficulties, Carlota. 

“What about you?”

Her words come out soft, as soft as the movements of her fingers on his skin. There’s deep, dark circles under his eyes, a couple of wrinkles that weren’t there when she last saw him. She traces them lightly, her heart aching as she imagines all the sleepless nights, all the worry that he won’t admit to.

Waiting for him to wake up from his coma was hell, but she can’t imagine what he had to go through knowing what _ she  _ was going through, unable to do anything about it.

As predicted, Francisco deflects instantly, smiling with the slightest shake of his head on the pillow.

They’re laying face to face, legs entangled, his arm around her holding her as close to him as possible, and Lidia can feel his whole body tensing up despite his words. “I’m fine - don’t worry about me.”

“You lost weight too.” He scoffs. 

“Lidia, you’ve been -  _ tortured _ ,” he says, the word obviously painful. “My lack of sleep or appetite really aren’t a priority right now. I can’t even - ”

She shushes him with a kiss - the hundreth that night, and still, she can’t get enough. Her fingers travel soothingly in his hair, on the side of his face, and Francisco releases a ragged breath. He looks at her, the hand in her hair stilling as he steals another few quick kisses.

When he leans down just enough to look at her, he speaks again, so softly that she would miss it if they weren’t so close. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was prepared for it, of course. Knew that the question would inevitably come, but yet, Lidia immediately feels her blood run cold. Flashes of their faces -  _ her _ face, of that damn prison assault her, and it’s like she can still feel it: the salt underneath her knees, the blows on her face. 

She doesn’t realize that her heart has been beating faster until his fingers cup her cheek to make her look into his eyes again. She notices that her fingers have tightened around his shirt, but she doesn’t let go.

“Hey - it’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked - “

“No,” she cuts, swallowing with difficulty. “No, it’s fine - I’m fine.” And she is, really - Eva’s sleeping upstairs, she’ll see her tomorrow. Francisco is right here against her and she’s safe now - she can sleep, she can rest.

She’s  _ safe _ . “I’m just - I don’t think I want to talk about it. Not yet.”

He doesn’t look upset, or disappointed - instead, Francisco just nods and smiles, bringing their foreheads together again as his thumb gently rubs her cheek.

“Of course. Whatever you want - whenever you’re ready.” The brown in his eyes take another shade when he speaks again. “I’ll bring you home, you know. I know that they’re still things to be done, and that it will have to wait a bit, but - I will,” and she knows that it’s a promise.

So, Lidia nods, and smiles as she kisses the tip of his nose. 

His hand moves to her side, then, and he smiles back at her. “But for now, you need sleep.”

“You need sleep,” she scoffs jokingly. His eyes sparkle with amusement at that, and it makes her insides sing. “How long have you been here waiting for me to come out of my beauty sleep, anyway?”

Francisco just shrugs. “A couple of days.” Then, smirks. “You did spend a year at my bedside yourself, though - it’s the least I could do.”

Shaking her head, Lidia chuckles, and brings both of her hands to frame his face. She kisses him to shut him, taking her time, while his arms bring her even closer, somehow. His fingers on her neck and on the small of her back set her skin on fire, and as their kisses grow deeper and deeper, Lidia feels that need in her chore build up, so much that soon, it’s not enough.

They shift, and then Francisco’s over her and  _ God _ , it’s perfect - until all of the sudden, he leans away, and his warmth is gone. She hears a whimper of protest leave her just before she opens her eyes, but she doesn’t care - she needs him.

“Lidia, we should probably - you’ve been through a lot. You need sleep.” But he’s panting, his pupils dark with want and longing, and all she wants in that moment is for him to kiss her again.

“I need you,” she simply says. It’s so true, it almost hurts. “I want you.”

For a second that seems to last forever, Francisco looks down on her, uncertain. Divided. But then she tugs at his shirt, ever so slightly, and he bends down to leave a small, chaste kiss on her lips, so tender it leaves her speechless.

He looks at her again, but this time, as he leans back down, he doesn’t stop.

There’s no more words exchanged that night.   
  



End file.
